Snapshots
by Greenbush
Summary: Glimpses into their lives. Sometimes serious, mostly light-hearted. Each short chapter will be a stand-alone story.


G saw the alarmed look on Sam's face. "What?" he said.

"You need to read last night's e-mail from Hetty."

G switched on his laptop and read the message. His face mirrored Sam's. "No. She's not serious," he looked up at him, "You don't think she's serious?"

"I think she's serious, G."

"Do you think she's done a risk assessment?"

Sam nodded towards Hetty's desk. "She's just come in, why don't you ask her?"

"You want to come with me?"

"Nope," he smiled, "she's all yours."

Hetty was stood on the small stool beside the coat rack hanging her Persian blue Chanel jacket on a hook. G waited beside her desk.

"Ah, Mr Callen, I see that you've read my e-mail."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious, Mr Callen. Is there a problem?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea. We'll be going in blind."

"Nonsense, it will be _fun_. You need to live a little."

"And I'd like to live a little more. Which is why I think – "

She held up her hand. "Well, that's settled. We'll see what Eric comes up with."

"But – "

"This case is closed, Mr Callen."

He knew that it was pointless to argue further with Hetty – she was never going to change her mind on this one – so he walked back to his desk.

Sam looked up at him expectantly. "It's been cancelled, right?"

"No." G sat down.

"That went well, then."

"Yeah," G was a bit deflated, but then suddenly perked up, "Hey, do you think I could say one of the bullet holes is playing up? Get out of it that way?"

"That's not fair, G. If we have to go, you have to go."

He looked over at Hetty, "Yeah. Just checking."

Hetty had decided that they needed another night out. They hadn't all been out together since the karaoke evening, the night Dom had disappeared. It had taken them three days to agree that place, so she decided that they were going to take it in turns to pick a venue. She'd given Eric the first go and had e-mailed the team last night.

* * *

A week later, as they were ready to leave the Ops Centre, Eric downloaded the address into their phones. Hetty was the first to arrive. She was stood in the doorway looking up at the building. Above the door was a sign announcing_ "Ye Olde English Hostelry and Hog Roast "_. The facade looked like an English medieval castle. The kind of castle Disney would create if they only had five bucks to spend on special effects. The beige stone cladding was missing in places and both of the towers were practically falling off. Even the Union Jack was wrapped around the flag pole as if it was ashamed to be seen. She was studying the plastic ivy snaking its way round a turret when Sam and G appeared at her side.

"This place?" they said in unison.

"Not another word, gentlemen," she said, "Let's go inside."

They were met by a man dressed in a monk's robe. He wasn't that much taller than Hetty and had a fixed smile on his face. "Greetings. You are most welcome. We have a very special feast planned for this eve. May I enquire whether you have you made a booking?"

G looked at him suspiciously. "Maybe… is it too late if we haven't?"

"Why, no, my Liege, we always save a special table for weary travellers such as yourselves. And it will be yours this fair night. I will guide you," the monk swept his arm towards the darkened area at the end of the corridor, "But first, I pray, how many souls are in your party?"

All three kept a straight face despite his terrible performance.

"Six." Sam said.

"Then I beg of you to follow me."

Hetty took point, followed by G then Sam. G leaned towards his partner and whispered, "I think that's Tom Hanks. He's quite good in real life, don't you think?"

The room was big enough to easily seat a hundred people. It was painted a dark purple and was lit only by flickering electric candles. It was decorated with imitation swords, shields, and tapestries and every now and then a full suit of armour was propped against a wall. In the centre of the main wall was a massive fireplace, and in the hearth a plastic piglet was slowly turning on a spit. The spit could be heard humming above the harpsichord music, and somebody had tried to hide the motor and wires with a swag of dried herbs. Apart from a couple of teenagers, they were alone in the room.

Hetty sat at the end of a long wooden bench and picked up some menus. She sniffed as she handed one to G, and another one to Sam.

G was the first to speak, "I told you it was Tom Hanks. This menu's just like the shrimp scene from Forrest Gump. All they've got is… pig. And can you smell it? People smell like this when they burn, you know."

Sam sighed and slapped him on the shoulder, "Come on, G, you need to get into the spirit of things before Eric arrives."

"Oh, I'm gonna get into the spirit, alright," he looked around eagerly for a waitress, "Just as soon as the wench arrives with the beer."

Eric, Kensi and Nate appeared. Eric was grinning, "Isn't this place great?" he said.

Sam gave G a warning kick under the table and said, "Yeah, Eric. I've never been anywhere like it."

"I know! It's perfect and it took me ages to find it. One of the guys I play with on-line recommended it."

G glared at Sam, then turned round to look at Eric and said, "Have you ever met this guy, like in real-life, Eric?"

He was still grinning excitedly, "Err, no, but my red and green razor-billed sea fighter is _so_ much cooler than his, even he says so. I'm starving, so what's everybody having…?"

* * *

Sam looked at his bedside clock. It showed 04.23, seven minutes since he'd last looked. He then heard G running from the living room to the bathroom, followed by the sound of retching. He threw back the duvet and picked up last night's boxers and t-shirt.

Sam switched on the main light in the living room. He saw G sat on the sofa. His face looked flushed and he quickly covered his eyes with his left hand.

Sam sat down next to him. "You ok, bro?"

"Yeah. Sorry to wake you Sam, must have had too much beer."

"'S'okay. I wasn't asleep. Not feeling too hot myself."

"Really…?" G squinted at him.

But before he could answer him, Sam was on his feet and headed to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later they were both sat on the sofa again. G hadn't touched the glass of water Sam had put on the coffee table for him. He was sat completely still with his eyes closed. His head was resting on the back of the sofa and his arms were folded protectively across his stomach. He was breathing through his mouth, trying to fight off the queasiness.

"G?"

"Mmm?"

"You want me to move so you can lie down?"

"Nah. Guess Hetty was right and it wasn't cooked properly," he took a deep breath in, "Feel like crap."

"Me too. I swear, G, when I see Eric I'm gonna..."

Sadly, G never did find out what Sam was going to do, because he was already on his way back to the bathroom.


End file.
